


Stop

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-25
Updated: 2008-05-25
Packaged: 2018-09-03 06:00:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8700160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: His little brother literally shone with excitement as he took aim and fired. He only hit three of his targets but from that smile Dean could tell it didn’t matter.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This is the first story of a series I'm working on. The lyrics are taken from Stop by Matchbox Twenty.

__________________________________

__________________________________

 

_Yes there’s times I’ve been afraid_

_And there’s not harm in that I pray_

_Cuz I’m more frightened everyday_

__________________________________

__________________________________

 

Sammy grinned up at Dean, all dimples and shaggy hair and teeth that his mouth hadn’t grown into yet. Innocent and proud and Dean couldn’t really think clearly anymore. 

 

“Good job Sammy,” he said, biting his tongue against all the perverted, frightening things he really wanted to say. “Let’s try this one now, k?”

 

And Sammy nodded enthusiastically as Dean pried his fingers from the small handgun and handed him bigger one. His little brother literally shone with excitement as he took aim and fired. He only hit three of his targets but from that smile Dean could tell it didn’t matter. 

 

“Can we go again?” Sammy asked. He fisted his hand in the hem of Dean’s shirt and pulled. He turned his eyes up and pleaded from behind his mop of hair. “Please? Dad won’t know. I won’t tell him, k Dean?”

 

And Dean couldn’t help but ruffle that hair, wishing he was sliding his fingers through it, and handed him the reloaded gun. Sammy missed all but one target this time and Dean was certain he was aiming for the target beside it anyway. But Sammy wasn’t deterred. He wanted to go get it. 

 

“Why?” asked Dean. And Sammy told him it was a souvenir. Dean just shook his head in disbelief and let him run to the fence and find the fallen can amongst the long prairie grass. His lithe form was all angles and boney awkwardness and Dean watched as Sammy moved in the too-big t-shirt. The t-shirt that had once been Dean’s favourite. 

 

Dad didn’t find out. Sammy was a poor enough shot that when he took him out for his “first” shooting practice he never would have known Sammy had even held a shot gun before, let alone fired one. Dean sat and watched from the hood of the Impala as Sammy aimed carefully and missed every single can. He watched as John fixed his stance, as Sammy was poked and prodded into position, as he fired and missed them all again. And when he couldn’t watch Sammy being berated anymore, he went and waited in the house. 

 

He expected to find Sammy’s tear stained face beside his bed that night, whimpering about failing, but instead he was woken to a grin that didn’t quite fit that eleven-year-old face. Sammy didn’t even wait for Dean’s invitation, he just slithered into place beside him and squeezed his body as close as possible.

 

“Did I do it right, Dean?” he asked as his hands trailed random patterns against Dean’s arm. Dean focused on steadying his breathing. Dean told his downstairs brain to obey his upstairs brain. And he waited for Sammy to freak out and leave when mini-Dean refused to behave.

 

Instead Sammy shifted a bit in the bed as though to get comfortable and asked him again. “Was I good enough?”

 

Dean frowned. “Sammy, you missed every time.”

 

Sammy just laughed. “But I had to be bad so Dad wouldn’t know. Was I bad enough?”

 

Dean let his hand fall on Sammy’s hip and flexed his fingers. On command Sam shifted closer and pressed his head under Dean’s chin. “Yeah, Sammy. You were amazing,” he whispered into his hair. Amazing. Better than anyone could ever ask for. Better than Dean deserved. 

 

__________________________________

__________________________________

 

_All the times I’ve given in_

_You fit me like a second skin_

__


End file.
